One Strike
by EbonyDesire
Summary: The only thing that Sakura cannot handle is violence. So when the anger of someone close to her begins to manifest itself in physical abuse, will she stay...or walk? [This story rated for potentially graphic sex scenes and violence]
1. Why Does It Always Rain On Me

**: One Strike :**

_**Notes:**  
You may not like how some of the characters are portrayed in this story. It is violent, profane, and sexual and should only be read if one is willing to not bother me about that content afterwards. The general premise of the story is domestic violence. This is not a topic to be taken lightly. _

_**Content of this chapter that you might want to know about:  
**Semi-detailed description of a woman's body.  
Slight profanity._

_Cheers, friends.  
-Ebony_

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"In weather, you can expect continually heavy rainfall for the next several days as a new storm system comes up on the coast…" Sakura pulled the keys out of the ignition, shutting off the car radio. With a sigh, she looked up through the top of her windshield at the rain that was pouring down in merciless sheets from the sky. The weather report's forecasts of extended rains were unwelcome news, turning the coming storm into one in a series of five systems that had battered the Japanese coast.

However, the coming storm was not Sakura's chief concern. Groping under the driver's seat, Sakura realized that she had left her umbrella at work next to her desk. She groaned and slumped in the seat, the rain pounding down on the top of the car.

_Looks like I'll have to make a run for it,_ she thought wryly, and regretted forgetting her umbrella. With a sigh, Sakura grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, then quickly thrust open the car door and leapt out, slamming the door behind her, then ran full speed towards the front door of her house. The small garden was flooding, mud from the patch spread all over the pavement of the concrete walkway.

_Damn, damn, damn…! _She sprinted up the steps to the door, going two at a time, and finally came up under the overhang, soaking wet and breathing heavily.

"Made it…" Sakura panted, pushing the strap of her purse back up on her shoulder. She looked down at herself and grimaced at the wet shoes, socks, skirt, blouse…everything. She looked as though she had jumped into a pool with all of her clothes on.

"Definitely will NOT be forgetting my umbrella again any time soon," she muttered as she unlocked the door. The lock slid and she pushed the door open, an invitingly warm puff of air coming out from inside the house. She stepped in, her body dripping water onto the tile floor of the vestibule and promptly creating a large puddle around her feet. Sakura shivered slightly, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh, the pale hairs on her forearms standing up straight. "This is ridiculous," she grumbled, and took off her shoes, putting them in a corner. Her white socks were soaked through to the point where she could see her feet through the nearly sheer fabric. She stripped these off with some difficulty, as they had quickly turned into an inconvenient second skin, and deposited them inside the shoes. Sakura was still dripping water everywhere. Streams were trickling down her face, and she pushed her soggy hair off of her forehead with her fingers, combing it back so that it was out of her eyes.

"So now what?" she asked, speaking out loud to herself. "I don't want to get the floor wet…" It had been less than a week since she and Syaoran had gotten hardwood floors laid upstairs and in the kitchen. The rich, chestnut-colored planks were exactly what Sakura had wanted to have in the house for years. Finally having them was a dream come true, and she wasn't about to ruin it by walking all over the wood floors with wet feet and clothes…

An idea struck Sakura and she smirked lopsidedly. _Syaoran would love this one,_ she thought to herself. She removed her blazer and then began to unbutton her blouse. The small silver buttons slipped out of the holes easily until they were completely undone. Sakura slipped the blouse off, discarding it at her feet where it landed with a wet 'plop'. The goosebumps extended to her breasts and belly, her damp skin suddenly clammy. _Better hurry into the shower,_ she reminded herself as she slid her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and slid it over her hips so that it pooled, pink and sodden, around her ankles. She was left in nothing but her bra and underwear, each article a black slip of a thing--a lacey and risqué set that Syaoran had given Sakura for their wedding night.

Sakura bent down and collected her jacket, skirt, and shirt in her arms, cradling them to prevent water from dripping. _I'm a genius,_ she thought triumphantly, mentally mocking herself for having to come up with the idea in the first place. _I can't believe I forgot my..._ She straightened up and quickly wiped her feet on the mat before progressing across the foyer towards the staircase that led up to the second floor of the house. No sooner had she taken two steps before her reflection in a mirror positioned on the entrance wall caught her eye.

Sakura stopped to look at herself for a moment. Gently putting her clothes down on top of her feet, she surveyed her image in the mirror. Her hair had mostly escaped from the ponytail she'd had it in and was now clinging to her neck and shoulders, where the skin was still as flawless as it had been when she was a girl. Sakura smiled and ran her hands from her neck and over her collar bones, feeling the smooth, cool softness underneath her fingertips. She allowed her hands to continue downwards, over the firm fullness of her breasts. Sakura could feel her nipples-- hardened from the cold-- pushing against the fabric of her bra, the twin nubs visible through the cloth. Her hands moved along her waist, the womanly curves and full hips that had been absent during her Tomoeda days slightly accentuated by nights of working late over a pint of ice cream. _I really have put on weight,_ Sakura thought despondently. _But at least I still have my tush!_ Sakura refrained from running her hands over her well-formed derriere and instead turned around so she could see the way it was complimented by the lacey, shorts-style underwear she was wearing.

"Yup…I've still got it!" She internally celebrated the fact that though it had been years since her sports days she still had the body she'd gotten married with.

Sakura shook her head at her silliness and picked up her clothes, then walked carefully over to the staircase. She placed a foot on the first step, eyes trained on the floor to make sure that there wasn't any water falling onto it, and shrieked when something most unexpected happened.

Large hands closed around her upper arms tightly. She was spun around to face whoever it was that had grabbed her and was met with a pair of _very_ familiar eyes.

"_Oh my…"_

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_This is my first fiction under this pen name, but certainly not my first piece ever. All of the chapters for this story have already been written, so depending on how you like it, I will post chapters accordingly. Please let me know if anything is lacking or if you particularlyenjoyed something and would like to let me know. I greatly appreciate constructive criticism. _


	2. Forgetful

Syaoran stood under his umbrella in front of the front door of the house, cursing as his cold fingers fumbled with his keys.

"It's got to be in here…" Syaoran growled under his breath as he searched for the key that would let him into the house. "Come on…" He shook the key bunch desperately. No luck. No sign of brand new key that Sakura had had copied for him just that past weekend…And, therefore, no identifiable way for him to get into the house.

"Dammit!" Syaoran shoved the useless ring of keys back into the pocket of his jacket and groaned, dragging his free hand down his face in frustration. He ran the possibilities through his head, striking each one down as it came to him.

_I could ask the neighbors for the key…  
_  
No; both the neighbors were out of town for the week. He had come home early for the very purpose of feeding their stupid cats.

_I could call Sakura…_

But she was working on call at the hospital. She couldn't just come home to bail his ass out of a situation as simple, trivial and stupid as this…and dammit, a man had to have some pride! He couldn't just call his wife for help with every little…

Syaoran heard a loud noise, like two flat pieces of wood colliding, and looked up in the direction from which he had heard it. He spotted the source of the noise; the shutters of one of the windows on the second floor of the house were snapping back and forth in the brisk wind, alternately hitting the windowsill to produce the noise he had heard.

_Sakura must have left the bedroom window open again…_ Syaoran's eyebrows shot up and he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he had discovered just about the only way he was going to get into the house. He sighed. _Damn my luck,_ he thought, trying to figure out how he was going to get up to the second floor in the first place. The rain was beginning to fall hard, and the wind was picking up, making the more supple branches of the tree that leaned over the house flail dangerously.

The tree…

_How do I get myself into these situations?_ Syaoran wondered as he put the final touches on his plan to get into the house. He shrugged, propped his umbrella up behind a plant next to the door (which mostly hid the umbrella from view) and descended the steps from the front door, jogging over to the thick base of the tree that was going to serve as his ladder. Apprehensively, he looked up the trunk off the tree, mapping his leafy route to the bedroom window. Grasping a sturdy branch with his hands, Syaoran fluidly pulled himself up into the tree. The ground was suddenly far below him. He stood on the branch for a moment; it rocking slightly beneath him. Syaoran grasped the main trunk as he maneuvered to another branch. The sky was a bruised purple-black color and rain pelted him, soaking him and his clothes.

"Well," he chuckled as he climbed, "here goes nothing…"

Five minutes later, Syaoran pulled himself, panting, in through the open window and lowered himself over the windowsill and into the room. The window had deposited him next to the closet, diagonally across the room from the bed. His shoes left muddy prints on the wooden floor and water from his clothes immediately began to drip off of him and onto the brand new paneling. He looked down at his feet and grimaced.

"Sakura's gonna kill me," he said to himself as he stepped out of his shoes and picked them up in his hands. Shivering, he walked to the adjacent bathroom and dumped his sodden sneakers into the sink before stripping off his clothes, which he tossed into the shower to prevent the tiled floor from getting wetter than it already was. His soggy socks left wide foot prints wherever he stepped and Syaoran peeled them off, throwing them into the shower to join the rest of his clothes. Reaching for his towel, Syaoran quickly dried himself off, rubbing roughly at his hair to stop the water from trickling down his face and neck. As he was combing stray strands off of his face, the phone began to ring. Syaoran wrapped the towel around his waist and strode half naked into the bedroom. He searched the room for the phone, and then realized it wasn't there. Swearing, Syaoran ran down the hallway, quickly descended the stairs that led into the kitchen, and skidded to a halt next to the counter. The phone wasn't there either. It rang a third time, and Syaoran sprinted down the set of steps leading to the basement floor, where he finally spotted the receiver on the sofa in front of the TV. He made a mad leap for it and managed to pick it up and put it to his ear just as it was about to go to the answering machine.

"Hello?" He panted as he tried to catch his breath. There was a pause on the line before the caller spoke.

"Hey, Syaoran. It's me."

"Oh, hey, Eriol. What's up?" Eriol paused as Syaoran struggled to slow his breathing.

"You okay, Syaoran? You sound a little…outta breath." Syaoran cleared his throat and shook his head.

"No, stupid, I'm fine. Sakura just…misplaced the phone again, so I was running around trying to find it." Eriol laughed.

"You have a phone in practically every room. Don't tell me that you two have 'misplaced' them all, Syaoran." Syaoran chuckled and wedged the phone in the space between his ear and his shoulder, leaning his neck to the side to hold the phone in place. Clutching the towel around his waist, he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out a soda, then sat down on the couch.

"Well, Eriol, it's Sakura. And you know that anything can happen at that point." He took a swig of the soda and sighed in satisfaction. "Mmm…that's good." Syaoran turned his attention from the soda to his friend. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Eriol?" Eriol laughed shortly.

"Tomoyo and I wanted to invite you and your lovely spouse over for dinner tomorrow night. Got any plans?" Syaoran put down the soda can and lay down on the couch.

"I dunno, Eriol. Sakura's on call all week. Let's make it a maybe…you never know when she's going to get called in."

"Hm. Okay, I'll tell Tomoyo." He paused for a moment. "Make sure you actually ask Sakura this time, Syaoran. Last time we invited you over, you said yes and promptly forgot to tell her. Tomoyo was devastated. She made her rice balls just for you and you didn't even show." He faked a pathetically effeminate sniffle which made Syaoran snort in amusement. Eriol suddenly yelped in pain.

"What happened?" Syaoran sat up in surprise at the sound.

"Tomoyo smacked me with a spatula," Eriol grumbled. Syaoran tried hard not to laugh at Eriol. He could hear Tomoyo muttering in the background and just barely managed to catch, _"I'll get Sakura to castrate you if you're not careful…" _Eriol groaned.

"Don't worry. First of all, Sakura can't operate to rob you of your lineage. Remember, she's in cardiology. And second, I won't forget this time. I'll even write myself a note. What time tomorrow?"

"Let's try …8:30? Tomoyo doesn't get out of her meeting until 5:00, and then takes forever to get things just the way she wants them…so yeah. 8:30." Syaoran shook his head.

"Eriol, how did we manage to marry such busy women?"

"Hey, you're the one who's married. Me'n Tomoyo are still pending on the whole 'tying the knot' thing. So I could just go and find a less busy…Ow!" Syaoran heard a noise that sounded painfully like metal on skin. He winced.

"Tomoyo hit you with the spatula again?" Syaoran asked, attempting to sound sympathetic.

"Uh-huh." Syaoran could imagine Tomoyo's playfully annoyed rant that would follow the telephone conversation.

"Well, I'll leave you to the angry to-be Hiiragizawa," Syaoran said cheerily. "I'll make sure to call you back about tomorrow."

"Gee, thanks a lot, Syaoran," Eriol replied dryly. He sighed in a resigned sort of way. "Well, I guess I'd better go. Tomoyo's looking for the meat cleaver. Bye."

"Bye." Just as he was about to hang up, Syaoran heard Tomoyo shout indignantly, _"I am not looking for the meat cleaver, Eriol!"_

The line clicked and Syaoran put down the receiver, then gathered the towel around his waist again and got up from the couch. He picked up the soda can, dropping it in a trash can that was next to the door, and proceeded up the stairs and into the kitchen. His eyes landed on the fridge and he paused as a large growl from his stomach reminded him that he had forgotten to eat lunch. Syaoran considered for a moment, then walked over to the fridge and pulled open the door. The leftovers from last night's dinner greeted him from small white Chinese take-out cartons that Sakura bought by the hundreds and used in lieu of troublesome Tupperware. Syaoran extracted a few choice-looking cartons from the fridge and set them on the counter one by one as he searched for some soy sauce to eat with what he presumed were the dumplings that he and Sakura had made for dinner the night before. Finally finding the soy sauce behind the coffee machine next to the kitchen sink (Sakura had put it there, no doubt), Syaoran pulled the first carton towards him and opened it. As he pulled the flaps open, his hand slipped and he ended up with all of his fingers buried in something that definitely wasn't a dumpling.

Syaoran extracted his hand from the pink-yellow-white mass and licked his index finger carefully.

"F…frosting…?" he said incredulously as he examined the carton. He sucked it off his fingertips and opened the next carton. Again, the same pinkish-looking frosting peeked gooey-ly out from the box. Syaoran opened another carton, and another, and another.

"I can't believe this," he muttered as he rooted around rooted around in the fridge for any other cartons that might contain a semblance of something edible. Nothing. Zilch. Zippo. All there was left was about 8 paper cartons full of cake. Syaoran sighed.

"Sakura, you sure have a strange sense of humor," he grumbled, and resigned himself to the fact that cake was the only thing on the menu for lunch, especially since he wasn't feeling up to making something himself at the moment. Grabbing a spoon and one of the many cartons he had spread across the counter, Syaoran made himself comfortable in a chair and propped his feet up on the dining table. He took a spoonful of the cake and put it in his mouth. The sugary-sweetness exploded across his tongue and Syaoran swallowed hungrily, digging another bit of the cake out of the carton. _Here goes nothing,_ Syaoran thought to himself as he devoured the cake, and hoped that he would subsequently get something decent to eat for dinner. After all, cake would only sustain a man for so long.

Outside, Sakura hadn't noticed the umbrella behind the potted plant next to the front door, nor the fact that there was a shutter that was open on the second floor of the house. Shivering, soaked, and clutching an equally-soggy purse, Sakura pushed her key into the lock and turned, grateful that she would soon be taking a warm shower, getting out of her wet clothes, and settling down for a quiet evening with Syaoran. Little did she realize that her evening would be anything but quiet.

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_Author's Note:_

_Well it's been quite a while since the first chapter was posted and I really am sorry. So much crap has come up, most of you wouldn't even believe. My 6 year old computer (really high time for a new one, I think) crashed, taking with it much of my data...so it took quite a while to retrieve my files (a very good friend of mine does such business for a living, as it were). Then, my sister-in-law gave birth to her first child a few weeks ago (a healthy, gorgeous baby girl. I ended up booking a ticket to the UK so I could fly out and see them! Quite exciting.). _

_Anyway, between all of that, plus work, plus my life, giving an update has been difficult. I also sort of decided to completely change the way the rest of the story happens, so...I am still in the process of rewriting the whole bloody story. Have patience, friends. An update will come soon enough..._

_Ebony_


	3. Dance Dance

_**READING THE AUTHOR'S NOTE IS VERY IMPORTANT!**_

If you don't read the **author's note**, you'll most likely miss out on key information such as warning of extended leave, questions/surveys, acknowledgements, or the occasional life update. Moving right along…

Thanks to all you who have reviewed! Your patience in my unannounced absence was greatly appreciated, and I will try to be a bit more regular with the installments of "One Strike".

In response to those of you who inquired about my recent trip to the UK, it was a lovely trip. Most of my family is still there (I grew up in England, though one can't tell from my oh-so Americanized spelling), so it was a wonderfully random opportunity for me to visit home. My niece and sister-in-law are both out of the hospital and doing very well. Thank you for asking!

So here's the new chapter, as promised (it's a bit short...sorry). I'm not sure when the next one will be up, but it might be a while. Things are heating up at work and my job has me globetrotting again. Ah, well. So goes life.

Oh Yeah.

**MAKE SURE TO READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END**.

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_**Content of this chapter that you might want to know about:  
**-allusions to sex  
-slight profanity  
-description of a lingerie set? _

**Chapter 3: A Chance Encounter**

Syaoran set down the now-empty carton with a satisfied sigh.

"At least I'm full," he said to the air as he got to his feet. The towel fell down around his ankles, reminding him that he was completely naked but for that particularly pink and fluffy towel he had pulled from the linen closet. Syaoran quickly picked the towel back up and wrapped it around his waist, tucking it in firmly so that it wouldn't come undone. It was a trick he'd learned from Sakura four years ago when they'd gone on their honeymoon to the beach. Their first day there, Syaoran had been dismayed to find out that Sakura had replaced his swim trunks with a garish, neon blue Speedo (the kind that looks for all purposes like a pair of underwear).

Sakura had of coursed giggled to no end. However, showing a bit of mercy on her mortified husband, Sakura had finally offered to show Syaoran how to tuck the towel about his waist in a way that it would be secure enough for him to walk back and forth between the pool and the pool-side bar without all the guests seeing him in his minimal swimwear. She had even openly suggested that they ditch the swimsuits completely and go skinny dipping-- this proposal following the one time Syaoran had actually complained about the skimpy Speedo. Though he had choked on his drink at the time of the suggestion, current circumstances made Syaoran willing to suffer the embarrassment of an obscenely scanty bathing suit in order to secure that same offer of physical contact that had been missing from his life with Sakura for such a painfully long while.

Syaoran chuckled halfheartedly at the memory and walked over to the fridge so he could put back the many cartons of cake he had spread across the kitchen counter. He would have to mention the lack of proper food to Sakura so they wouldn't spend another evening eating greasy take-out or, in the worst case, a disturbing number of jellybeans for dinner. The thought of the last time they had been forced to that extreme brought a true grin to Syaoran's face as he remembered the stricken expression on Sakura's face when she realized that she had, for the 3rd day in a row, forgotten to do the grocery shopping and that both of them were too exhausted to actually go out and get something decent to eat. They had spent that evening sprawled out on their stomachs in front of the fireplace as they picked choice-looking morsels from a large jar of Harry Potter-themed Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Jellybeans that Tomoyo had given Sakura for her birthday. Sakura had laughed herself to tears when Syaoran had enthusiastically chosen several of what he had thought were caramel jellybeans, ending up with his mouth full of earwax-flavored ones instead.

Syaoran shook his head, the smile still on his lips, and tossed the empty container on the table into the trash bin under the sink. Their early days, during the first couple years of their marriage, had been absolutely wild, fraught with a variety of newlywed adventures, including their first (and only) pregnancy scare, and the trials and triumphs of the purchase of their 2-story, gloriously suburban house.

A chill froze its way up Syaoran's spine and he shivered, the hairs on his arms standing up. He rubbed his forearms vigorously, reminded yet again of his state of undress and the urgency with which his body demanded a hot shower. Syaoran was about to start up the kitchen side of the staircase when he heard what sounded like shoe-shod footfalls on the wooden flooring of the adjacent entry/family room. He frowned as he quietly made his way towards the dark-wood door leading into the family room. Sakura shouldn't be home already. It was too early, and plus she was on call, which meant she wouldn't be coming back from the hospital for a while. Syaoran hadn't been expecting her home for another three or four hours. Carefully cracking the door open, Syaoran peered into the family room as discretely as he could. What he saw took his breath away…

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Sakura looked at herself in the mirror appraisingly, noting with satisfaction the consistent texture of her skin and the youthful elasticity it mad maintained over the years. Her thoughts still tumbled over the fact that Syaoran hadn't picked up the phone when she'd called to tell him that she was going to be coming home early from the hospital.

_Who am I kidding?_ she thought with a slight frown, running her hands through her wet hair. _It's been almost a full month since Syaoran and I…_

Sakura clipped the thought short, not allowing the undeniable truth to unfurl completely in her mind. Whether she denied it or not, well-maintained body and skin aside, she and Syaoran hadn't been together intimately—physically or emotionally— in longer than Sakura wished to acknowledge. And it was beginning to show in their interactions, too…

Pushing this from her mind, Sakura picked up her clothes. She gave her reflection a lingering glance, and then crossed the vestibule to the foot of the family room side of the wraparound staircase. The wall to the right of the stairs was lined with photographs from Sakura and Syaoran's years together, each one placed at approximately eye level for whoever was standing on the particular step with which the photograph aligned. Sakura knew the one she would stop at on her way up the stairs. The very center picture, 5 steps from the bottom, with the gold frame and off-white matte: a glossy 4x6 of their hands – hers and Syaoran's – linked together, fingers intertwined. It was a shot from their wedding day which Eriol had taken Photoshop to, grayscaling everything except their wedding rings so that the twin gold bands shone out from the rest of the picture.

Without ever being sure of why, Sakura knew that it was her favorite picture from her life with Syaoran. Without a reason, Sakura had wept inconsolably when Eriol had presented it to her and Syaoran on their first wedding anniversary as a gift.

Without their realizing it, their fingers had begun to slip and they were slowly but surely drifting apart…

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**READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE RIGHT NOW OR YOU'LL SERIOUSLY REGRET IT. VERY VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT!**

AN: Okay. Now this is the part where it gets tricky, since I need some input from **you guys**. The more opinions I get on this, the better. And trust me when I say that you'll be making my job a whole lot easier if you'll just leave a review with your answer to the following question.

I know this chapter has been sort of dramatic, with the drama and such somewhat overshadowing the touch of humor I've tried to add to the early chapters of this story. I'm sure you all know what comes next. It is, of course, the encounter, but my question is this:

Do you want the interaction to be more of the dramatized stuff, or do you want it to be more life-like (as in more of the humorous 'ha-ha, look at the silly situation we're in' sort)? I couldn't really decide which way to go, so it's up to you!

I can't stress enough **how important it is that I get feedback** so that I know where to go. The sooner I get your opinions, the sooner I can write up the next chapter.

**I find it really funny** that "One Strike" has almost 2,000 hits (wow, that's a lot!). Seems like tons of people come and check out the story, but only the precious and beloved few actually review! That made me laugh when I saw it in my stats the other day.

So anyway, make sure to give me your thoughts. Very very crucial.


	4. Crash

Hi, everyone. I know, I know. Update took forever and I'm sorry for it. I've been in Sri Lanka on business for the last week or so and, as you can probably imagine, writing time has been extremely minimal.

The majority of people wanted this chapter to maintain the drama of the previous chapters, so I did my best to acquiesce.

By the way, to those of you who asked…no, Sakura isn't pregnant.

Sakura Haru, thanks for asking about the story. If you hadn't reminded me, I would have completely neglected to post this chapter at all.

I hope the chapter's up to par. Please feel free to comment and give me tips on how to make it better. Thanks, guys.

Cheers,  
Ebony  
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Chapter 4: Crash

Sakura had never quite decided where she stood when it came to surprises. There was a part of her that appreciated the unexpected events that constitute a surprise…and yet there was the other, more pragmatic side of her that branded such things as unwelcome aberrations in structure. Sakura's life was full of small surprises. Little things like opening the fridge to find the week-old rice that should have been eaten or thrown out days ago; waking up early in the morning and getting ready for work, only to find that it was a Saturday. Small matters like that. Those who didn't know her couldn't possibly realize that beneath the entropy that seemed to define her life, there was a definite organization that she guarded carefully. With all the surprises she encountered in her work, Sakura made it principle to keep her personal life as un-surprising as possible.

Which is perhaps the reason why she couldn't really choose how to respond when she was grabbed from behind as she began her ascent up the stairs.

She whirled around, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat as she turned. "Oh my God…!" Sakura saw who it was and calmed down instantly, working hard to breathe deeply and slow her racing heartbeat. Syaoran grinned impishly at her and kissed her nose.

Hi, honey," he said softly. "You're looking pretty gorgeous there in nothing but your underwear…" His arms were draped loosely around her waist, pulling her close to him. Sakura placed a hand on his chest to steady herself. She felt the heat of a blush spreading across her face. Her knees were quivering like jelly and Sakura was sure that if she didn't have Syaoran's arms supporting her, she would fall down.

"Wow…hi. What're you doing home so early?" Sakura asked in pleasant confusion, deciding to ignore the quip about her state of dress. Syaoran's hair was wet, his bangs hanging long over his eyes. His dark brown eyes were full of mischief as he smiled that irresistible smile at her. His skin was slightly damp, cool to the touch, and smooth. A few stray drops of water lingered in his hair and on his neck and shoulders. Sakura relished the image, loving the feel of his hands on her body and the heat that his proximity brought to her neck and cheeks.

One of Syaoran's hands left Sakura's waist. He held her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up ever so slightly, and looked into her bright green eyes. Syaoran contemplated their position for a brief moment; felt her body so close to his; felt the heat surging from his fingertips to his toes. Without hesitation, Syaoran captured her lips, drawing Sakura into his arms. Electricity crackled between them as their lips met. Sakura responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with equal intensity, her heart thudding in her ears. His mouth was sweet, his lips tasting distinctly of sugar, and Sakura was reminded just how much she loved this man. Chills and sudden warmth raced from her neck to the base of her spine, a pleasurable burning sensation that lingered wherever Syaoran touched her. Sakura clutched him tighter, her fingers tangling in his mussed up hair. In that moment, she could scarcely believe that she had gone without this contact for as long as she had.

Syaoran was surprised by Sakura's quick response to his advances, and smiled against her lips. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, their lips meeting and parting briefly, then coming together again. Syaoran's heart soared. Only moments ago he had desired nothing more than to have his wife in his arms…and now he had it.

_God must be smiling on me today,_ he thought as he gradually broke the kiss. Sakura's eyes remained closed, her lashes dark against the fair complexion of her skin. Her lips were still slightly parted, pink and slightly swollen from Syaoran's kisses.

"Hey," Syaoran murmured softly, hands resting on Sakura's bare shoulders. Sakura's eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, twisting a bit of his hair around her index finger.

"Hey to you, too," she replied in an equally quiet tone. She ran a hand down the side of his face and Syaoran leaned into her hand, turning his face and kissing her palm. He covered her hand with his, lacing his fingers with hers, and planted light kisses on her wrist and down her forearm to the crook of her elbow. Syaoran could feel Sakura trembling and looked at her with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked tenderly, pulling her into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest, inhaling the wonderful scent of his cologne, and put her arms around his waist as he held her. Sakura sighed contentedly.

"It's been a while," Sakura said quietly as she traced circles with her fingertips on Syaoran's back. He hugged her a little tighter and began to stroke her damp hair.

"Yeah…it's been too long." He pulled away from her, and Sakura looked up at him quizzically.

"Syaoran…" He placed a hand on the back of her neck and sighed.

"I hate your work sometimes," he grumbled, a lopsided smile on his lips. "Someone should have warned me that I was marrying such a busy woman." Sakura rolled her eyes and pulled Syaoran to her so that their lips were a few inches apart.

"I did, you silly man. Don't you remember?" Her breath ticked his chin and neck and Syaoran was about to kiss her again...

When Sakura's pager started beeping.

Sakura pulled away from Syaoran eyes seeking her purse. She found it a couple feet away where it must have landed after she dropped her things when Syaoran surprised her.

"Sakura…please don't…" Syaoran's eyes begged her plaintively, imploring her not to answer the page. He held her tighter. Sakura squirmed, trying to extract herself from his arms.

"You know I can't just ignore it, Syaoran," she said, begging him to understand. "I'm on call…what if it's an emergency…Syaoran…!" He had begun to kiss her neck, his arms clasping her close to him and restricting her movement. Syaoran ran his lips down her throat, sucking in just the right places where he knew it made Sakura writhe.

She moaned softly, twisting in his grip both in pleasure and in a half-hearted attempt to free herself from him. Syaoran was a master of charm and Sakura felt herself falling quickly under the spell that she knew she could not allow herself to succumb to at that moment. It was too risky. If she gave into her desires now, there would be no turning back. She knew this. No matter how much she wished she could ignore it, the pager was still beeping and it would continue to do so until she acknowledged receipt of the page. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sakura mustered her willpower and steeled herself, then pushed herself away from Syaoran and out of his arms.

They both stumbled backwards. Sakura fell onto the loveseat behind her. Syaoran steadied himself on the arm of the couch, eyes wide with shock.

"Sakura…" She stood up and shook her head, walking over to her purse. Reaching in, she found her pager and pressed a button. The beeping stopped and she put the pager back in her purse. Then she turned and faced Syaoran. Her face was grave, melancholy. Syaoran could see the beginnings of dusty purple bruises that were blooming on her neck and collarbones. Sakura ran a hand over her neck self-consciously, then bent to pick up her scattered clothes.

"I'm sorry, Syaoran. I really…really am. There's an emergency case at the hospital and I have to go…" She looked up and her eyes met his. The look on his face broke her heart. With a sigh, Sakura deposited her clothes at the foot of the stairs and walked over to Syaoran. She put her arms around him and kissed his forehead.

"It's my job, Syaoran. Whether I want to or not, I have to go to the hospital when I'm called. I've dedicated my life to this, Syaoran. It's not just a profession. It's not just work." She looked him in the eye. "There are people at the hospital who are counting on me. You know that. You understood that when we got married. This is what we're going to have to deal with. Its part of the life I've chosen. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden…?" She frowned slightly, then smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, breaking the kiss before it could go any further than that. "I'm going to go upstairs and change. Then I have to go the hospital. I'll be back tomorrow evening. Okay?"

Syaoran nodded petulantly and sighed.

"You'd better get going," Syaoran said. "You should take a shower before you leave. You feel clammy. Want me to call the hospital and tell them you're on your way?" Sakura's face lit up and she nodded.

"Oh, could you please, Syaoran? A shower is just what I need right now…thank you so much, love!" She grabbed her clothes and her purse and ran up the stairs. "I'll be down in two minutes!" she as she dashed down the hallway towards the bathroom. "Just tell Meiling I'll be there in 15 minutes, okay?" Her voice dwindled. Syaoran heard the click of the bathroom door and the turn of the lock. The water started running.

With a scowl, Syaoran picked up the phone and punched in the number of Sakura's secretary. _"Sakura asked why I'm acting this way,"_ he thought to himself as the phone began to ring. _"Why am I acting this way?" _There was a click and someone picked up the phone.

"Hello, you've reached the office of Dr. Li Sakura. This is Meiling speaking. How may I help you?" Syaoran cleared his throat.

"Hi, Meiling. This is Syaoran, Dr. Li's husband. I was just calling to let you know that she'll be at the hospital in 15 minutes and that she received the page you sent."

"Oh, hello Mr. Li. That's good. We're having something of a crisis here. A subway car derailed close to the hospital and they're bringing all the wounded here. It's a mess in here! Please tell Dr. Li to hurry and get here as fast as she can!"

"Sure."

"Oh, and…Mr. Li…" Meiling's voice carried a note of flirtatious intention as she spoke. "You should relax a bit. Don't sound to tense."

"Thanks for the advice, Meiling. I'll try to keep that in mind." Syaoran rolled his eyes tiredly. He was irritated, exhausted, and in no mood to deal with his wife's saucy secretary.

"Don't mention it, Mr. Li," Meiling gushed. "You must get so bored when Dr. Li isn't home…if you're ever feeling lonely, you know where to find me. Bye bye, Syaoran…I mean Mr. Li." She giggled and hung up the phone. The line went dead and Syaoran slammed the phone back onto the cradle with an angry growl.

"I've had enough of this," he muttered. He climbed the stairs and stalked into the bedroom he shared with Sakura. Closing the door behind him, he shed the towel he was wearing around his waist and walked into the closet, quickly choosing a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt and jacket to wear. He pulled these on over an undershirt and a pair of boxers. After fishing around in his sock drawer for a few moments, he found a thick black pair of socks and put these on his feet. Finally, he located his boots, wallet, keys, and umbrella.

Syaoran passed by the bathroom on his way down the stairs. The water was still running and he could hear Sakura humming in the shower. His frown deepened and he walked down the stairs, sitting on the bottom step long enough to shove his feet into his boots and tie up the laces. Syaoran stuck his wallet and keys in his pocket, buttoned up his jacket, and walked out the front door, closing it firmly behind him.

_I'm sick of this. I'm sick of waiting, of being pushed aside. I'm sick of coming second to the rest of the world. _

He opened the umbrella and started walking towards his car. The rain was pouring down in sheets and Syaoran could hardly see a foot in front of his face. He stopped in front of his car and looked up at the house. A window on the second floor was lit up. Through the blinds he could see Sakura's silhouette as she rushed back and forth in their bedroom. Syaoran sighed (he seemed to be sighing quite a lot these days) and got into the car.

_I love you, Sakura. And I know you love me. But who do you love more…me…or your work?_

Syaoran started the car and pulled out of the driveway. The headlights illuminated the wet road, showing him the way through what was going to prove to be a long and lonely night.

* * *

AN: Eh, I really think this chapter could have been better. I did my best with the time I had. Please tell me what you all think. Thanks. 


	5. Misery Business

AN: I am utterly disgusted with myself. Seriously, I cannot believe it took me this long to put out this little chapter. When I began this story, it was a two or three chapter story at most. That was it. I was going to have it done in a few week's time and be finished with it. I suppose the characters had a different plan for my plotline because now it's much longer than I'd ever anticipated. Truly, it's taken on a life of its own.

That means more waiting on your part and I am so sorry for that. Hopefully by the end of this project we'll all feel that it was worth the wait.

Ebony

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Chapter Five:

Within ten minutes of Syaoran's phone call to Meiling, Sakura stepped out of the bathroom. Her exit into the hallway was heralded by a billow of steam that issued from the bathroom door and she exited wrapped in a fluffy white towel, her wet hair wrapped up turban-style in a smaller towel of the same carefully-maintained white color. While her body resisted her rush as she flew into the bedroom and then into her closet, her mind was dead set against anything that would keep her from making it to the hospital on time. Sakura yanked random clothes on, ending up with a somewhat mismatched pant and shirt combination that would be easy to hide under her white lab coat, and then ran back into the bathroom. She found her watch on the bathroom counter and quickly fastened it around her wrist, her stomach dropping when she saw the time.

"Crap," she muttered, pulling a brush hastily through her tangled hair. Order was promptly forsaken, and she resorted to pulling her damp locks into bun that kept the hair off of her neck and the water off of her clothes. Sakura grabbed the pile of wet clothes that was on the floor next to the shower and dumped it in the sink along with the towels she had used, then rushed to the bedroom again. Her purse was sitting on the bed, her pager next to it. She grabbed these and a pair of socks and then dashed into the hallway and down the stairs. Her wet shoes were still next to the door, and they were sitting in a puddle of water.

"Can't wear those," she said to herself as she headed for the shoe closet. She opened the closet door and instantly spotted a pair of warm but waterproof boots. Sakura grabbed them off the shoe rack and sat down on the second to last step of the staircase to put on her socks. As she was pulling on her first boot, a thought suddenly occurred to her. She stuck her foot into the second boot and stood up, grabbing her purse.

"Syaoran?" She waited, but there was no answer. A glance towards the key-holder mounted on the wall beside the front door told her that Syaoran's car was gone...and Syaoran with it. Sakura grimaced. _Shoot,_ she thought. _He's mad. _

But there was no time to stop and ponder her husband now. Sakura collected her purse and keys, checked to make sure that her cell phone was in her pants pocket, and then went to the front door and yanked it open. What greeted her was nothing short of a prodigious sheet of water falling perfectly vertically from the sky to the ground.

"Ah…" Sakura stepped back into the house and grabbed an umbrella from the stand in the foyer. "I'm not forgetting anything this time!" she said triumphantly. With her purse securely under her arm and her umbrella clutched tightly in her hand, Sakura stepped from the house and out into the pouring rain.

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It was slow going for Syaoran, despite the lack of traffic in the direction in which he was headed. The rain pounded against his windshield like an army of fists, almost completely obscuring his view of the road. Had it not been for the new-and-improved windshield wipers Syaoran had had his mechanic install, driving in this rain would have been impossible. Still, he was extra-attentive to the road and the few drivers around him. To hydroplane now not only could but would result in a damaging, punishing injury...and that was something Syaoran was determined to avoid at all costs. So despite his black mood, he kept his focus completely on his driving, not allowing his thoughts to wander to what and who he had left behind at home.

"Where to go, where to go…" he murmured as he drove. There were many cars traveling in the direction opposite the one in which Syaoran was headed--all working people leaving the city for their homes. To go to waiting families. Something tugged cruelly on Syaoran's heartstrings and he winced. Whether he meant them to or not, his thoughts always went back to his wife. While it's said that men think about sex at least once every two minutes, it was always Sakura to whom his thoughts returned. Dinner with Sakura, and maybe a quiet evening with her, was all he really asked for--though, of course, sex every now and again _would_ be nice. And he'd been so close today...so very close to making that connection with her that had seemed lost for such a long while.

Syaoran scowled at the direction that his thoughts were taking. Of course, it wasn't just sex with Sakura--not ever. There was a definite, palpable connection of the soul there every time they were together whether it was physical or not. But, all the same, no one did it like Sakura. Never could there be another with whom love that was so electric, so charged, so mind-blowingly passionate. Syaoran shifted in his seat and tried to force his mind down another avenue of thought as the blood began to pulse fast and hot in his groin. Putting the words "Sakura" and "sex" in the same sentence was not the best thing for him to do when he was supposed to be concentrating on his driving, and it wouldn't help him quell his anger or his hurt. Instead, Syaoran thought about the enormously obese secretary at his office (her name was Kanako, if he remembered correctly). Now, sex with _her_ would be an absolute nightmare. Syaoran shuddered at the thought and felt the blood recede quickly from his crotch and return back to where it was supposed to be: in his brain. _Nothing like thoughts of sleeping with a woman three times your size to get you back on track,_ he mused, sickened. A scowl crossed his face. That was one mental image that would not be leaving any time soon.

A sign indicating that the next exit was in three quarters of a mile reminded Syaoran that he had yet to choose a destination for the evening. He racked his brain for a place to go, and then settled on one of the downtown bars that he and Eriol frequented on their Guys' Nights Out. It was nothing special; small, somewhat dingy, but it was a fun place to hang out and the bartender served a knockout of a dirty martini. Plus, they had a mechanical bull, and the merciless beatings it dealt to the drunks provided entertainment enough to last an entire evening. Really, for Syaoran it didn't get much better than that.

Syaoran released one hand from steering wheel duty so that he could hunt in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He found it easily and withdrew it, his thumb seeking the "3" key that would speed-dial Eriol's cell phone number. It started ringing and Syaoran put the phone to his ear. After four rings, he heard a scuffle, an indignant "Of course not!", and then finally Tomoyo's voice.

"H'lo. You've reached Eriol's cell phone. You might be wondering why I--Tomoyo--am on Eriol's voicemail. That would be because Eriol is a lazy-ass who doesn't want to do it on his own." Chagrined squawks were heard in the background from Eriol, but Tomoyo continued blithely on. "Eriol can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the tone. When he stops being a bum, he'll call you back. Thanks, and have a great day."

Eriol's ridiculous voicemail greeting amused Syaoran, but not quite to the point of a smile. Syaoran waited until the beep and then left his message.

"Eriol, it's Syaoran. I'm heading over to Yoshimi's for a few drinks and I was wondering if you wanted to join me. Just give me a call when you get this message. Thanks. Later." He tried Eriol and Tomoyo's home phone with the same result. He hung up with a frown and stuck the phone into the car's cup holder. It seemed that he would be alone that evening. _Not that it's anything new,_ he thought to himself glumly. With a sigh, he flicked on his indicators and began to cross lanes toward the exit that would take him to Downtown.

Just then, his cell phone began to ring, vibrating mightily in the cup holder. Hoping it was Eriol, Syaoran reached out and grabbed the phone, putting it to his ear before the second ring was complete.

"Hello?" He was expectant, believing that it could be none other than Eriol calling him, and so he was taken aback when he heard a voice different than the one he had assumed he would hear. In fact, this voice caused his hand to slip on the steering wheel, making the car swerve sickeningly and recklessly into the next lane.

"Hi, Syaoran." It was Sakura, her voice soft and apologetic. Syaoran held the phone between his ear and his shoulder and put both hands on the wheel, not trusting himself enough to drive safely with only one hand. He pulled back into his own lane, flashing a repentant glance to the angry driver who he had accidentally cut off in his surprise.

"Oh. Hi, Sakura." Syaoran fought to keep his voice under control--to keep the anger and resentment out of it. He breathed evenly, carefully. "Are you at the hospital yet? What's the situation like?" Syaoran asked the questions in a practiced way, as he did every time Sakura had to run to the hospital for an emergency. It was a tradition--one that helped Sakura get pressures of handling other peoples' lives off of her chest. And usually, Syaoran was glad to help and relieve her of at least that much. But it was hard to retain the sincerity with which he usually asked these questions when the lifeblood of his marriage was being drained by them.

"No...no, I'm not at the hospital yet. I'm still on the road." Syaoran looked at his watch. Sakura was already 10 minutes later than she'd said she would be.

"Well you'd better hurry up, Sakura. I'm sure they're missing you at the hospital." Too late Syaoran realized the venom he'd injected into his comment. _Oops_, he thought. _Better fix that. _"That is to say…"

"Syaoran…" Sakura cut him off, and Syaoran felt his anger flare again. He worked to keep composed, but it was harder than usual. Gritting his teeth, he waited for her to speak. "Syaoran...are you...are you really angry with me?" She sounded tentative, like she didn't quite know what to expect from his answer.

He would have been lying outright if he had even tried to convince her that he wasn't

angry.

"Yes," he said. "I am." With great determination, Syaoran kept his tone flat and emotionless. He heard Sakura's sharp intake of breath, and she paused before she spoke.

"I'm...sorry, Syaoran," she whispered, and there was pain evident in her voice. Syaoran tilted his head back against the headrest, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"No," Syaoran disagreed. "_I'm_ sorry." His mouth twisted in a grimace; this was starting to sound more like a soap opera than he liked to admit. "I'm sorry…that I'm not enough to hold you. Sorry that...that I'm not that guy who's willing to be put second to everything else. I'm--" He broke off then, clenching his jaw to keep the words he so badly wanted to say from coming out, and then sighed. "Listen," he said, "I just need some...time to think. I'll call you later."

"Syaoran, I…" But he interrupted her.

"Sakura...I have to go. I'm liable to say something I don't mean if I keep talking to you right now. Just...drive safely. The roads are slick."

"Syaoran…" Sakura's voice came to his ear, a barely audible whisper.

"I'll call you," Syaoran insisted, and he snapped the phone shut to end the call, before tossing it carefully onto the passenger seat. By now, he was approaching the city center and was glad for the distracting task of trying to navigate his way to the bar.

_Lord knows I need a drink now,_ he thought to himself. He could feel the depression that usually accompanied a lonely evening descending upon him, compounded by his less-than-pleasant conversation with his wife. Syaoran took the necessary turns, pausing less than was conventional at stop signs, and quickly arrived at Yoshimi's. The flashing lights and dark windows of the bar were strangely welcoming and Syaoran pulled into an empty parking space, putting his car in park and pulling the keys out of the ignition. He patted his jeans, checking for all the essentials and then stepped out of the car, locking the doors behind him.

Even from the parking lot, Syaoran could see that the bar was packed--something that was typical of any Friday night at Yoshimi's. He pushed through the crowd of twenty-somethings who stood smoking outside the bar, flashed his ID at the security guard standing next to the door, and was inside. His eyes scanned the dimmed room and he could identify no faces that he knew besides that of the bartender. The lights above the dance floor pulsed on and off to the beat of the unidentifiable techno song that was being played, and the small wood-paneled square was packed with writhing, gyrating couples, many of whom still sipped from their drinks as they danced.

Carefully and not without difficulty, Syaoran picked his way through the crowd and finally made it to long strip-like bar that ran down the right side of the room. He hunted for an empty seat and sat down gratefully, pulling off is wet coat and draping it over the seat next to him. The three seats on either side of him were empty.

After a few moments of waiting Syaoran saw the bartender approach, a small white towel draped over his right shoulder and a full martini glass in his hand. He set the glass down on the counter in front of Syaoran. A small amount of the cloudy fluid sloshed over the lip of the glass, rolling bead-like down the slope of the flute and along the stem until it formed a wet ring around the base of the glass. Syaoran grinned gratefully at the lanky, pale-haired man before him.

"Yukito," Syaoran said in greeting, inclining his head slightly. The man named Yukito grinned righ back at Syaoran, eyes twinkling.

"What on earth has brought you back into my lair, Syaoran?" he asked jovially. Syaoran picked up the martini glass and took an appreciative sip.

"Wife," he said simply. Understanding made itself apparent on Yukito's visage and he nodded.

"I see." Yukito folded his pale, slender hands together, bracing his elbows on the bar countertop and leaning forward toward his visibly troubled customer. Syaoran studied Yukito's hands as he sipped his drink. They were graceful, slightly effeminate hands that would have been better suited to playing a piano or a violin than they were to pouring drinks. In the same way, the slender, bespectacled young man to whom the hands belonged seemed constantly out of place--as though a laboratory geek had accidentally switched places with the rough and tough sort of person one usually expected behind a bar.

"What happened?" Yukito inquired curiously. Why his domestic spats were of such interest to Yukito, Syaoran would never understand. He seemed to derive some sort of vicarious pleasure from listening to Syaoran recount the trials and tribulations of married life. Of course, Syaoran was never one to deny the gangly barkeep his pleasures, and indulging Yukito in his odd fascination also helped Syaoran get things off his chest. It was a mutually beneficial outfit they had put together and so Syaoran had no objections to providing Yukito with details.

"What else but the usual?" Syaoran responded with a shrug. "She's a cardiologist. She's busy. She chooses work over me without fail every single time." He drank deeply from his glass, closing his eyes as the alcohol burned slightly on its way down his throat. "Pisses you off after a while. Is it wrong that I wish she'd take some interest in the poor unfortunate spouse every once in a while?" A short snort of a laugh escaped Yukito and Syaoran cast him a reproving look.

"Sorry," Yukito said apologetically. "It's just that the way you said it was funny." When Syaoran didn't continue and didn't lift the frown from his face, Yukito went further to make amends. "Go on, go on. I promise. No more laughing. Seriously." He made a valiant attempt at a poker face.

"Right," Syaoran growled. "Well, that's about it. Gets you down. And what with all the rain…" He gestured vaguely above his head, flicking his hand about in a way that he meant to indicate clouds. "Didn't feel like spending the evening by myself, so I figured I'd come here and grace you with my presence. Nice, huh?"

Syaoran had, by this time, finished his martini. Yukito placed another in front of him and took away the empty glass. With a murmured thanks, Syaoran started on the fresh drink and, observing his unusual conduct, Yukito frowned.

"It looks to me like you're drinking to get drunk here," he suggested softly. "Not something I've seen you, of all people, do before." Syaoran met his steady gaze. Yukito did not miss the angry edge in Syaoran's, and so he was mildly surprised that the anger did not permeate the words Syaoran spoke next.

"In most cases, Yukito, I appreciate your advice...your intervention, even." His voice was friendly, but his eyes were still dangerous and his fingers gripped the stem of the martini glass with more force than was really necessary. "But tonight, why don't you just play barkeep instead of trying to be my shrink?" Yukito nodded slightly, carefully, his lips pressed tightly together into a thin line that curved downwards at the corners.

"Well, call if you want something." Yukito gestured behind him at the rows of bottles stacked on the shelves behind the bar. "In the meantime, though," he started, and hesitated as though he regretted letting those words slip, "Well, as long as you're here you might as well save the doom and gloom for later. Why mope today about what you can mope about tomorrow, right?" His attempt at a joke earned him only a malevolent glare from Syaoran, and he shrugged his shoulders and walked off down the bar.

Syaoran swiveled the barstool to face the dance floor. The blinking lights played staccato patterns across the darkened room, the thumping bass pounding in Syaoran's chest like a second heartbeat. He let his eyes rake across the dim expanse before him, gliding over the twisting, glittering bodies as he again surveyed the crowd for a familiar face. Syaoran itched to reach for his cell phone again, and his hand jerked towards it as he considered calling Eriol again to see if he would pick up this time.

_Patience_, Syaoran reminded himself, folding his arms over his chest. He took a deep drink from the glass clutched in his right hand, closing his eyes as the potent fluid slid down his throat and settled, warm and viscous, somewhere below his ribs. Again he turned his gaze to the dancers, taking in the sounds and scents. His vision felt slightly distorted--blurred around the edges and shifting too much despite his stationary position. Syaoran squinted, trying to focus his eyes properly. The effort was rewarded by a sharpening in the pictures that came to his eyes. With a triumphant smile on his lips, Syaoran got up from his barstool and began to walk into the sea of people, disappearing behind the waves of exposed, flailing flesh.


	6. Going The Distance

**Note:** Yes, I'm posting after a hideously long time. No, this doesn't mean I'm actively coming back to this story. I simply found this file sitting on an old flash drive and figured I'd upload it. It's short.

**Content of this chapter you might want to know about:**  
Profanity  
Mention of sex (whoop-dee-freaking-doo)

**Cheers,  
E**

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Chapter Six: On Call

The automatic doors that led from the OR and into the washroom slid open at Sakura's approach and whistled softly shut behind her. The procedure wasn't finished yet. The patient had sustained a crush injury to her whole right side in the accident, and Sakura's cardiothoracic expertise weren't near enough to fix the entire problem. The other surgeons were still repairing various other damages to the patient, but Sakura's work on this case was done.

With a sigh, she snapped off the bloody gloves and slipped off the face mask and the gauzy smock she wore over her scrubs and tossed them into the biohazard bin. She watched the surgery through the window above the sink as she washed her hands, and only when they began to burn did she realize that she had scrubbed them raw. She was distracted. So distracted, in fact, that she only narrowly missed making a mistake in surgery that could have cost the patient her life.

_Syaoran's mad...he's mad...he's mad...at _me_. _The thought played on a loop reel through her head, again and again. The look on his face, the hurt in his voice...they were all she could see, all she could hear. Sakura rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly, wishing she could shut her mind's eye and focus properly for a moment.

Still, there was no way to shut out or silence this problem. And, as much as she didn't want to, she had to think about it. It was impossible now to deny that her marriage was suffering as a result of her work. Syaoran had never gotten angry-or, at least, had never gotten _this_ angry-over her needing to leave home for the hospital. He was such an agreeable man that it was easy to forget that he even had the capacity to get mad. Even so, his anger was the stuff of legends. The ferocity that had frightened Sakura when she and Syaoran were in grade school together was still a defining trait of Syaoran's, though it had morphed and redistributed as he'd grown older. Sakura had never felt the full force of his anger upon her directly, but she'd observed it enough times to know that she had no desire to experience it herself.

And yet, this time it seemed like she might have to face it head on anyway, for she'd done enough to incur it. Regret burned in the pit of her stomach, fierce and all-consuming. There were so many things that, in that moment, she wished she hadn't done. More than anything, she wished with every fiber of her being that she hadn't shoved him away like she had. It hadn't just been a physical action. It bore psychological and figurative implications, for in staving off his advances she'd pushed aside their relationship, their intimacy, like it meant nothing to her. And, of course, nothing could be farther from the truth.

Sakura dried her hands carefully before reaching into the neck of her scrubs to bring out a gold chain on which hung her engagement ring and wedding band. She undid the latch that held the chain around her neck and allowed the rings to tumble into her palm before replacing the necklace. Sakura briefly considered the rings in her hand before sliding them both into her finger. She'd never put much stock in symbols, but the rings she wore were undeniably symbols for her marriage. For her promise to Syaoran. She didn't break promises, didn't take them lightly. She had made a commitment to her husband. She'd taken vows of love, of fidelity. But she'd also taken an oath to protect life, had made a promise to serve her patients. Did one set of promises trump the other, or was it possible for them to exist side by side? So far, it didn't seem that the latter could possibly be true. If she continued in this same manner with her career, she would be a legendary surgeon...and alone.

Sakura sighed and left the washroom, making her way out into the hallway. Things had calmed down significantly since she'd arrived, and it looked like the situation had returned to affairs as usual. Interns buzzed around the nurses station asking after patients, but other than that the walkways were largely empty. She took a glance at her wristwatch and frowned. It was 3:00 AM; of course the place was empty. Any reasonable person would be asleep.

Her pager was quiet and since this was the last of her three nights on call, her name wouldn't on the surgery schedule until for another two days. After noon tomorrow, she would be free for a whole day and a half. As the thought of time off crossed her mind, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Being post-call meant writing up charts and doing case dictations, but it also meant time at home. Time, in this case, that she could spend repairing her marriage. She wasn't looking forward to the inevitable fight, but the resolution would hopefully be worth it. And make-up sex, she knew, was incredible. Sakura shivered with expectation at the thought.

She checked her watch again, this time mentally weighing her options. The on-call room was right down the hall; she could crash there and sleep until she was needed or her shift ended. Or she could make the half-hour drive home. The idea of just staying at the hospital was insidiously attractive. Already the adrenaline from the emergency surgery was wearing off, leaving her body sore and her mind exhausted. She trudged over to the on-call room, already imagining what it would feel like to have the blankets around her. Sleep was all she wanted, all she could truly get herself to focus on. And what if there was another emergency, or one of her many interns made a mistake and required rescuing? What if she were needed here-

Her hand was on the doorknob, but Sakura forced herself to stop that line of thought and consider the alternative. She could make the trip home. Syaoran would be there, waiting for her. She needed to show him that she was invested in their relationship, and she would be damned if driving home through the rain at 3:30 in the morning wasn't a display of investment. Tired as she was, she knew it was the right decision.

Sakura's tired body protested as she trudged back to her office to grab her purse and coat, but she kept it motivated with thoughts of home and falling asleep in her husband's arms. Meiling's desk was vacant, but there was a bright blue Post-It note stuck to the door of Sakura's office timestamped 8:34PM-right after Sakura had gone into surgery. Sakura squinted at the tight cursive handwriting tiredly and read, "Mr. Li called".

"That's it?" Sakura grumbled. She flipped it over, but the back was predictably blank. Sakura rolled her eyes. _Big fucking waste of a Post-It_,she thought, feeling her mood darken as she thought of her chirpy, exhaustingly energetic secretary. _No wonder she's always ordering more of these._

She keyed into her office and started gathering her things, frowning at the mess. It was clear from the contents of the overflowing trash bin and the extra set of clothes she had folded over the arm of her desk chair that she had been more or less living out of this room. The place needed a good cleaning, but that would have to wait for one of her days off. Hurriedly, she slung her purse over her shoulder and left, locking the door behind her.

The sight of the Post-It on her door was a reminder to Sakura, and she pulled her cell phone out of her purse to check for missed calls. There weren't any calls, but she did have a text message from Tomoyo reminding her about their dinner date. She shrugged her shoulders and slipped the phone back into her bag. It was odd that Syaoran had called at her office instead of on her cell, but not entirely unusual. Knowing she was headed into surgery, he'd probably called Meiling to find out how soon she'd be out. She considered calling him to tell him she was coming home, then remembered what time it was and thought better of it.

It took longer than she would have liked but she eventually made it to the parking lot, fielding several anxious questions from her neurotic interns along the way. Even though she'd been careful to bring her umbrella with her, she didn't need it to get to her car. A new bank of rainclouds was quickly approaching from the east, but the air was for the moment incredibly clear. The moon was barely a sliver against the deep black sky and was accompanied only by the one or two stars that managed to make themselves seen from behind the smog and light pollution of the city. The night was cold. Sakura shivered and got into the car, tossing her purse and coat onto the seat next to her before starting the engine. The small green numbers on the dashboard clock read 3:35AM. It would be 4:00 before she reached home, even without traffic.

Sakura put the car in reverse and began to back out of her parking space, grumbling to herself.

_This had better be worth it_.


	7. Trouble

**Note:**  
This chapter explores the theme of sexual abuse, through what some might consider an unusual frame. This perspective was inspired by the play Drawing The Shades by April E. Wilson.

**Content of this chapter that you might want to know about:  
**Mentions of alcohol and intoxication.  
Male and female anatomy.  
Dark sexual themes and content.  
Profanity.

Cheers,

**E.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Trouble

Yukito saw Syaoran approaching the bar long before he reached it and began to mix another drink for his crumpled-looking patron, but Syaoran shook his head and pushed the martini glass in front of him away. He'd returned to the counter from the other side of the room for drinks a few times over the past hour or two, but that apparently wasn't his aim this time.

"Water," he rasped, then cleared his throat and continued, "please." His voice was clearer on the second word, though still a bit slurred. Yukito nodded and filled a tall glass, placing it on a new napkin and pushing it toward Syaoran.

"Wise choice," Yukito said simply, eyeing Syaoran warily. Syaoran braced his elbows against the bar counter and rested his chin on the heels of his hands, considering the glass in front of him for a moment before taking the straw between his teeth. He sucked down the water quickly, then looked up at Yukito with wary apprehension.

"Alright. What's my tab for the night?" Yukito filled Syaoran's glass up again before answering.

"You've had three martinis and a scotch," he said, and continued on with a hint of apology in his voice. "And then there's the pitcher you ordered for your...friends back there." Yukito looked over Syaoran's shoulder to the booth on the other side of the room where a group of pretty girls in sequin-encrusted dresses sat chatting and drinking. Syaoran grimaced, not needing to follow Yukito's glance to know who he was referring to, and found when he looked up that the young man had redirected his scrutiny toward Syaoran himself, his expression inquisitive. Syaoran groaned and put up his hands.

"Didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, turning his palms toward Yukito in a gesture of innocence. Yukito laughed and Syaoran threw a dirty look his way. "Oh, ye of little faith," he said, disgruntled, as he reached toward the new glass of water in front of him. His head was beginning to feel clearer, and so were his words. He looked over at the girls whose drinks he had paid for and frowned.

"Decisions, decisions," he muttered as he drained the glass and gestured at Yukito for more. "They asked, and I didn't feel like saying no." Yukito nodded, and passed Syaoran his water along with his bill for the night. Syaoran grimaced when he saw the numbers, then signed it and handed it back.

"For as much as you've had to drink you're surprisingly...lucid," Yukito remarked as he filed the receipt. Syaoran snorted.

"Half that scotch ended up on the dance floor," he admitted with a laugh, and Yukito responded with mock-offense over the waste.

"Well at least this means I can drive myself instead of having to call someone," he said optimistically, but Yukito raised a skeptical eyebrow and jerked his head toward the front window through which Syaoran could still see the sheets of pouring rain outside.

"Really? Four drinks in and you want to drive in that?" Syaoran agreed. He was a good driver and could hold his liquor, but going out in that weather after drinking would just be asking for it.

He fished in his pocket for his cell phone, considering who to call first. If experience had taught him anything it was that Sakura would still be elbow-deep in someone's thoracic cavity, which wouldn't make her much of a designated driver. Syaoran pressed the speed dial for Eriol's cell phone, and when there was no response there he tried again at Eriol and Tomoyo's home with the same result.

He ended the call instead of leaving a message, and frowned at the phone as he pulled it away from his ear. Where the hell could Eriol and Tomoyo be that they weren't answering their phones… but then a very graphic, very _naked_ answer to the question came unbidden to Syaoran's mind and he turned his thoughts to other trajectories. Syaoran checked his watch. It was 8:30, which meant that he still had a shot of reaching someone at Sakura's office. With a sigh, he dialed the office number. If nothing else, he'd get Meiling and she could give him an estimate of when Sakura would be out of surgery. Meiling, predictably, picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, Dr. Li's office. This is Meiling speaking." She was bright and overly enthusiastic, as usual.

"Yeah, hi Meiling. This is Dr. Li's husband-"

"Oh! Hello again, Mr. Li." There was that saucy greeting again, that not-so-subtle implication. Syaoran rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples tiredly.

"Hey. Um." He paused, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to ask, then continued, "Dr. Li's still in surgery, right?"

"That's right," she said. "Looks like she won't be out for a while. Big pile-up on the highway exit." Syaoran nodded to himself, considered his next move, and then resigned himself to it.

"Right. Well, I'm actually calling because I'm at a bar and it's raining and…" Meiling giggled.

"Do you need someone sober to give you a ride home, Mr. Li? I'm just heading out. I could come get you if you want." Heat flared in Syaoran's face at the secretary's laughter but, yes, that was exactly what he needed. He told her the name of the bar and agreed to meet her out front in thirty minutes.

Syaoran spent that time sobering up fully, sucking down another couple glasses of water and then making an urgent run to the bathroom when his bladder finally caught up with him. He examined his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he washed his hands. He looked well enough-hadn't reached that state of intoxication where waxy skin and bloodshot eyes were the telltale sign that there was something amiss-but he was tired, and it showed. The scruffy shadow around his chin and jaw didn't really help his case either. He cupped some water in his palms and splashed it on his face to freshen himself up. It didn't do much to help his appearance, but he felt somewhat more alert and that would have to be good enough.

Syaoran dried his hands on the front of his jeans and exited the men's room. It was about time for him to meet Meiling. He made his way towards the door, waving goodbye to Yukito as he passed, and pushed the doors open. The cool, wet air on his face was a welcome change from the heat and the sweat, and the doors took the thud and thrum of the bass back into the bar with them as they swung shut behind him. The rain was still coming down heavily, blurring everything more than a few feet from the entrance into a generally mud-colored backdrop. He looked around, squinting through the rainfall for the blue sedan Meiling told him to watch out for. He didn't see one anywhere nearby, but it was still a few minutes early and in this rain she was bound to be at least a little bit late. That was fine. Syaoran was good at waiting. He looked for a comfortable bit of wall to lean against and settled in to wait.

For a moment he considered calling Sakura, or texting her at the very least, to let her know that Meiling would be giving him a ride home, but then thought better of it. He was still angry with her, but there was no sense in causing her unnecessary worry by making her think he had gone out and gotten hammered because of their fight (though it was partially true). He wasn't in any danger. By the time she got home the next afternoon he would be sober and and the car would be back in the garage following a midmorning rescue from the parking lot. Sakura would never even need to know that anything had happened.

The weak link the cover-up was Meiling. Syaoran hoped he could count on her to keep quiet, since "awkward" was the most positive description of the arrangement they'd made that Syaoran could think of. There were other words that came to mind. "Sketchy", for example. Or "suspicious". Best for both parties if there were a common understanding of nondisclosure. Of course, Syaoran didn't know Meiling that well or, in fact, at all. But he would have to take it on faith that common sense would by itself be enough, and that asking nicely would guarantee she kept it a secret.

That's what it was, after all: a secret. Syaoran wasn't used to having secrets from Sakura, and he rolled the idea over in his mind in an effort to get used to it. Though he was more sober than drunk at that point, he was still in a grouchy mood, and his thought processes reflected it.

_Serves her right,_ he thought irritably, his mood darkening. _She's never around. It's a wonder this didn't happen before now. If she can neglect me, I can lie to her_.

It would be a lie by omission, but a lie nevertheless and a pretty significant one. Sakura had made it clear in the past that she didn't much care for her secretary, and the feeling of distaste had only grown stronger since she'd finally noticed Meiling's overtly flirtatious behavior with Syaoran. There were few things that would make Sakura jealous like hearing that her brash secretary had had to give prone, drunk Syaoran a ride home in her stead. With that in mind, Syaoran began to consider telling Sakura after all, but he was forced out of his own head and into his surroundings when two sharp beeps of a car horn broke his train of thought.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring at and saw that a blue Jetta had pulled up in front of the bar and that Meiling waving through the open passenger-side window. Syaoran returned the wave in a less enthusiastic fashion and shrugged away from the wall he'd been leaning against. He walked carefully toward the car across the damp pebble-studded sidewalk, equally cautious of slipping because of the rain and of tripping because of the alcohol. Meiling unlocked the door for him and he got in, the eaves on the overhang in front of the bar shielding him from most of the rain as he shut the door behind him.

"Hey," Syaoran greeted her as he clipped the buckle of his seatbelt into place. "Thanks again for doing this. I'd drive, but I've had a few drinks and I didn't want to risk it in this weather." Meiling shifted gears and turned up the speed of the windshield wipers as the car pulled away from the curb. The rain continued to fall steadily, the drops shattering loudly against the front of the car as Meiling accelerated. She glanced over at him and smiled.

"You look just fine. I'm sure you could've managed, even in the rain." She flicked on her indicator light, then made her turn out of the parking lot. "Still, I'm glad you called." Her smile grew wider, but she didn't say anything more. Syaoran glanced over at her, bemused, and studied her out of the corner of his eye. Her face, illuminated by flashes of yellow from the passing lightposts and the dim glow of the dashboard, was actually quite nice to look at, with large ochre-colored eyes and a small, heart-shaped mouth. Her straight black hair, now cut into a fashionable bob, brushed her chin and softened the otherwise sharp features of her jaw and nose.

They pulled up to a traffic light and Syaoran looked away before she could catch him staring.

"So," she began, "I'm guessing you weren't out with friends." She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel absently as she waited for his response and for the light to change. Syaoran hesitated, and decided to go with the face-saving half-truth.

"My friend was supposed to meet me but he ended up bailing at the last minute. I figured I might as well have a drink since I'd driven so far already, but I guess I went a bit overboard..." The car behind them honked impatiently, and Syaoran realized that the light had already changed to green while they'd been talking. Meiling hit the gas with a suddenness that threw him back in his seat, causing his world to shift uncomfortably for a few moments. The nausea lodged itself in the pit of his stomach and he grimaced.

"Actually, I think I'll just take a bit of a nap… Do you know the way?" Meiling glanced over at him and nodded. Syaoran rested his head against the crook between the shoulder of the seat and the door, and shut his eyes. He was asleep almost immediately.

The next thing he knew, she was on him. He awoke to the feeling of pressure on his legs and opened his eyes to find her straddling him with her knees on either side of his lap.

"Wake up," she murmured as she kissed her way down his neck, quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt and running her hands along the plane of his chest. Syaoran felt himself react in spite of himself, his shaft beginning to harden in response to her attentions. She noticed.

"Ooh," she purred, moving a hand to feel him through the crotch of his jeans, "big boy." Meiling ground herself against him, and the heat of her core against him only aroused him more.

Syaoran was still groggy, but awake enough now to know what was going on and to know that it shouldn't be happening. He tried to move forward to push her off of him, but she grabbed his hands just then, moving one so that it was cupping her breast and maneuvering his other one under her skirt and between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and she pressed his fingers against her soaked center. She moaned at the contact, a high-pitched whine escaping her lips as she moved his hand against her. Syaoran tried to pull back, but she was surprisingly strong and held him down, pressing him back into his seat as she leaned forward to capture his lips with hers.

_ No. _"Stop…"

She rocked against his fingers, panting with pleasure, holding him against her even as he fought to break contact without hurting her.

_No, no, this was __wrong__._

She forced his lips apart, probing his mouth with her tongue, tasting him in a series of hot, sloppy kisses. Her fingers began to deftly work the fastenings of his jeans, the buttons and zipper opening quickly. His cock sprang forth from the slit in his boxers, and she grasped it with eager hands, running her fingers tantalizingly slowly along it from base to tip. Meiling let go of Syaoran's hands and lifted herself up slightly, shuddering with anticipation as she prepared to lower herself onto his length.

_Oh god…_

In a rush, Syaoran drew back and gave Meiling a lateral shove back towards the driver's seat. From her raised position she toppled, tumbling backwards and smacking the back of her head against the car door. The impact stunned her for a moment and she lay there, dazed, as Syaoran hastily threw open the door on his side and stumbled out of the car.

The rain had reduced to a steadily falling mist outside. Sodium gas lamps were placed every ten meters or so, sending out cloudy halos of yellow light into the the moist air. Syaoran's head was reeling. It all felt unreal, dreamlike. He could feel the water settling on his skin, beading on his eyelashes. But for the one he had just escaped from, there wasn't a car in sight. The streets appeared empty, which only contributed to Syaoran's feeling of isolation.

He took a few steps and found that he was suddenly freezing. Looking down, he realized that the damp night air on the skin of his thighs and groin was partially to blame, and he quickly zipped and fastened his jeans as he scanned up the down the street, trying to gather his bearings. They had parked on a corner in a residential, suburban neighborhood, and Syaoran heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that he was only a block or two away from his house. He examined the street signs to confirm, then began to walk briskly in the appropriate direction, trying to put as much distance between Meiling and himself as he could.

Syaoran was only a few meters away when the car door opened and closed, and he heard the staccato click of high heels bearing down on him from behind. He winced and continued walking, pausing only to twist his arm out of Meiling's grasp when she grabbed it in an attempt to stop him. She scurried after him as he strode away from her, and had it not been for the rage boiling his blood he would have been impressed by how well she was keeping pace with him in spite of her walking-impractical shoes.

"I thought you wanted me!" she exclaimed, and it was the indignation and hurt in her voice that forced him to come to a halt and face her. Syaoran whirled around, forcing Meiling to stop short in order to keep from crashing into him.

"You thought I _what_?" he demanded loudly, then realized where he was and lowered his voice. He cornered her against the brick retaining wall they were walking past. She looked up at him, her expression fierce.

"It's obvious from the way you look at me," she said, not reacting to his aggression. "It's clear from Dr. Li's hours that you aren't getting any from her, so unless you've taken to seeing hookers I'm guessing you aren't getting laid at all. Even from the way you talk I can tell you're frustrated, and not just in the normal way." She glanced at his balled up fists, then back up at Syaoran. Her tone changed, a seductive, throaty quality replacing the accusatory shrill she'd been employing.

"Even your anger is sexual," she breathed. "You could have me against this wall, right now, and I would never tell anyone." She rubbed her leg against his, hooking her foot around his calve, and Syaoran backed away from her quickly. He dragged his hands through his hair, frustrated, then folded his arms across his chest and took a few more steps away from her.

"I don't know how you got it twisted this badly," he growled, his voice dangerous, "or whether you missed the memo, but I am married. Happily. To your _boss_. I don't want anyone else, and I definitely don't want you." He spat the words, not caring if they hurt. He could still feel her hands on his body, still feel the heat of her against him, and it made him feel dirty. It made him angrier. He took her by her narrow shoulders and slammed her against the wall. Meiling cried out at the impact, wincing as Syaoran's fingers dug into her skin.

"Now you listen, and you listen well," he said, his eyes boring into hers with a ferocity that frightened her. "I tell Sakura about this, and you lose your job." He was bluffing-who would ever believe that it was his wife's diminutive secretary who had done the assaulting and not the other way around-but she didn't need to know that. He continued, his expression fierce. "So you'd better not breathe a word of this to my wife, and you'd _damn_ well better stay the fuck away from me."

He released her, and she rubbed her shoulder, looking up at him reproachfully.

"Fine," she muttered, scowling as she stepped away from the wall and from him. "I know when I'm not wanted." Meiling straightened out her blouse and threw one last glare Syaoran's way before walking quickly back towards her car, the sound of her shoes still visible even after she'd disappeared around the street corner. Syaoran relaxed only after he heard her start the car and drive away, and only then did he resume his walk home.

Syaoran suddenly realized that he'd forgotten his jacket in Meiling's car. It was cold outside, and without his jacket Syaoran shivered slightly. He rubbed his arms in an effort to stay warm, then began to jog toward his house. It was only a couple minutes away, and knew from the telltale clank of metal against metal in his pocket that at least he had his keys on him this time. A large raindrop hit his cheek, then his forehead, and shortly a light rain was falling once more. Syaoran began to run in earnest.

He did his best to keep his mind empty as he ran, focusing instead on the rhythm of his feet against the pavement. They thumped in time with his heartbeat. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Syaoran felt dizzy, short of breath, and realized that his hands were shaking. So this was what shock was like, he realized.

Syaoran arrived at his house just as the rain really began to pour, feeling grateful that he didn't need to climb through a window this time and instead keyed into the front door to get into the house. He was, however, soaked once again. Life, it seemed, was proving to be circular today.

He made his way upstairs, shivering, and stripped down completely, wringing out his wet clothes and draping them over the counter to dry. He briefly considered a shower to warm himself up, but the exhaustion hit suddenly, leaving him feeling limp and defeated. It was all he could do to force himself to towel off and find a clean, dry pair of boxer briefs before sliding into bed and falling immediately, deeply asleep.

Things would look better in the morning.

* * *

It's longer. Y'happy now?


	8. Timshel

**Note:  
**I love writing this story, but it takes time and I keep convincing myself that I am too busy for it, and so I only come back to it intermittently. But thank you **very** **much** to all those of you who have stuck with me this long. I'm trying, I promise.  
Looking back at the first few chapters, I am more than a little bit embarrassed. My writing has changed a lot since I first started this piece, mostly out of necessity, but also by dint of a lot of work, so I'm thinking of going back and revising chapters 1-6 for content as well as style. I'll let you know if my heinous laziness will accomodate me on this one.  
Anyway, here's the next installment... horrifically delayed and probably annoyingly short, but here you go.

**Things you might want to know about:  
**There is sex in this chapter. It's not super-explicit, but there are body parts.

Tra,  
**E.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Timshel

Sakura's relief at having gotten home in one piece in spite of having almost fallen asleep at the wheel on the freeway was outweighed by the realization that Syaoran's car was not in its space in the driveway. She frowned, worry immediately setting in as she parked her car and felt around under her seat for the umbrella. It wasn't like him to be out this late, especially not without calling. She checked her phone to see if there were any messages from him, or from Eriol, but there was nothing.

The rain picked up, beating down on the hood of the car even harder than before, and Sakura resolved to put her contacts list to work as soon as she was inside the house. She kicked open the car door, opening up the umbrella and scooping up her purse, and made a dash for the overhang of the porch. The porch light was turned on even though Sakura hadn't remembered to do so before leaving the house, and that meant that Syaoran at least had to have been home at some point that evening. Sakura brooded as she fumbled with her keys.

The lights in the entrance were off, as were the ones in the kitchen and the living room. Sakura groped around in the dark until she found a switch on the wall next to the front door, and surveyed in the sudden flood of light the wet mess that was the floor of the foyer. Muddy tracks led to the pair of boots that had been kicked off at the foot of the staircase, and she could make out the damp sheen of wet footprints continuing up the steps. Sakura grimaced, her relief mixing with a growing buzz of irritation. Syaoran's keys were hung up on the keyrack beside the shoe closet, so he was definitely home. Who else would've made such a bleeding disaster of the flooring?

She hung up her coat and tucked her shoes onto the rack in the closet, and then headed for the kitchen. There were spare rags in the cabinet under the sink, and she grabbed a few and used them to mop up the water Syaoran's wet boots and, very probably, wet clothing had left behind. She shook her head in, vexed, as she picked up the boots and set them by the heating vent to dry out. He'd probably been drinking. He always got this way-messy and careless-when he he drank.

Though perhaps "careless" was the wrong word. To be careless indicated a lackadaisical forgetfulness, when what she really meant was a literal failure to care, bordering sometimes on inconsiderate rudeness with a touch of belligerence. Sakura liked alcohol well enough, and her college days had definitely seen her through some eventful nights and some equally-eventful mornings after, but the reeling, uncontrolled feeling of drunkenness was something she avoided and, if she was being honest with herself, feared. The only truly pleasant drunk she'd ever met was Tomoyo, who after having a few drinks, liked to dance and tell stories. Most other people, Sakura found, just became obnoxious-annoyingly giddy, or much too sad. And sometimes angry.

Sakura spread the rags she'd used out in the kitchen to dry, and then headed upstairs, her weariness hitting her hard now. The energy she was expending in keeping her awake was dwindling, her eyes gritty with exhaustion. Every muscle of her body ached and longed for the weightlessness of sleep.

Upstairs, the hallway light was off. Sakura groped around in her purse for her cell phone, and made her way to the bedroom by the light of the phone's display. The door was ajar, a ribbon of deep, inky darkness running between the door and its frame. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room, the dim circle of light from the phone illuminating her path. The room was quiet but for the telltale sound of Syaoran's breathing. Sakura smiled tiredly as she crossed over the closet to change her clothes. She would wait until the morning to bother him about the missing car.

She flicked the closet light on and shut the door behind her, shimmying out of her clothes and tossing them into the laundry basket. There was a stack of Syaoran's t-shirts at her elbow, and she picked one at random to wear to bed. She inspected the logo on the front and found that it was from a project at Syaoran's old work. Something about information systems, most of which she'd forgotten in the intervening years. The shirt itself was a comfortable cotton number and smelled delightfully of detergent and fabric softener. She walked over to the bed, pulled aside the covers, and gratefully climbed in, sighing softly as the mattress cradled her weight. She felt like she hadn't slept in years.

Syaoran was sleeping with his back to her, breathing lightly, and she slipped her arm around his waist, pressing her lips against the nape of his neck.

"Sorry, darling," she murmured, settling back into the pillows. She was almost asleep when the feeling of Syaoran shifting in her arms woke her up. He rolled around to face her, and suddenly the length of his body was flush against hers. She put her cold, clammy toes against his and he shivered.

"Sorry," she repeated, withdrawing her feet. "Didn't mean to wake you." She lifted her face to kiss his jaw, but he shifted and pulled away from her.

"I was already awake," he murmured, turning again so that he was on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was making an effort at keeping his face neutral, but Sakura knew his expressions well, and the tightness of his mouth gave his anger away. She tried not to feel hurt, but the disappointment welled up inside her and she found herself blinking back tears.

"Didn't think you'd be coming home tonight." He glanced over at the bedside table, where the glowing green dial on the clock boasted an ungodly set of numbers. The sun would be rising soon. He'd been lying awake for hours, and it looked like sleep was not going to be happening tonight.

"Oh, well... I figured it would be nice to sleep here instead of at the hospital..." Sakura's voice was small, and he didn't need to look at her to know that she was trying not to cry. He swallowed hard, regret and anger and shame burning steadily in the pit of his stomach, and sighed.

"No, it's good you came back," Syaoran said, not entirely sure if he meant it. He'd been counting on at least a few more hours alone, hoping that he'd have more time to sort out his thoughts. Sakura could hear the hesitation in her voice, and it cut deep. A few determined tears slipped silently dow the sides of her face and she hurriedly wiped them away, disgusted with herself.

"Good night then," she said, and rolled onto her side to face away from him, the space between them giving her that gnawing feeling she got in her lower back whenever she faced away from a dark room. She pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and her eyes fell shut, seemingly of their own accord. In spite of the heavy emotions weighing her down, her exhausted body's demands for rest took charge over her internal turmoil, and she began to drift off to sleep immediately. She was half asleep, and already part of the way into one of the vivid dreams she often had between sleeping and waking, when she felt Syaoran shift beside her. Suddenly, there he was, his body strong and warm at her side. He put an arm across her, his large hand clutching her hip, and heat flooded her body as he pressed his mouth urgently against hers, urging her lips apart with his tongue.

A very vocal piece of her-the piece that had spent umpteen hours on its feet in the operating room that day, the piece that hadn't slept more than a few hours a day all week-violently resisted being woken, resented Syaoran for robbing her of her sleep. She was more tired than she could remember ever being. Every muscle ached with tension; her head was pounding, beating out a distracting staccato from between her eyes. She wanted rest-needed it, craved it down to her bones.

But the bigger piece of her-the one that loved Syaoran more than anything, the one that had left him angry and hurting earlier that evening-couldn't bear to tell him no again. He had tried to be loving toward her, and she had pushed him away. Syaoran, she knew, deserved better than that.

So, in spite of her exhaustion, Sakura kissed him back, threading her hand into his hair until she was able to find that spot on the back of his neck where he liked to be stroked _just so_…

Syaoran shifted until he was on top of her, and Sakura accepted his weight, hooking one leg around his hips to pull him closer. She relished the smell of his skin, a mingled scent of sweat and soap and sandalwood. His lips were frantic and insistent against hers, and he held her chin firmly with one hand in that slightly possessive way she absolutely loved. Sakura ran her hands down Syaoran's bare back, feeling the rise and movement of his shoulder blades, then traced lower along his spine with her nails. He hissed as Sakura's fingernails left fine, thin lines on his skin, and pulled away from her lips to begin kissing and biting at her throat. Sakura gasped as Syaoran nipped her collarbone. He slipped a hand underneath the hemline of her nightshirt, fingers skating up along her ribs to cup her breast and Sakura moaned, arching up into him as he used his lips and teeth to tease at her other breast through the fabric. An intoxicating heat was filling her body, and she could feel herself quickly becoming slick with desire.

Impatiently, Sakura yanked at Syaoran's boxers, attempting to use her feet to force them down past his thighs. Syaoran pulled away for a moment to remove them completely, allowing Sakura enough time to pull her shirt over her head and toss it next to the bed. She had her thumbs hooked into the waist of her panties-was about to take them off-when Syaoran brushed her hands aside to do it himself. Sakura caught his eye and blushed at the look on his face; hunger, desire, and admiration mingled in his expression. There was a hint of something else there, too-anger? Hostility?-but it was gone before she could identify it.

Syaoran leaned forward to brush his lips against the inside of one of Sakura's thighs, then moved up to plant kisses beside her navel, between her breasts, and at the hollow at the base of her throat. Sakura shivered and licked her lips in anticipation, then reached down to grasp Syaoran's shaft.

He had no hint of an erection. Sakura tried very hard to conceal her surprise, but something must have flashed across her face before she could stop it because Syaoran frowned and pulled away from her.

"I…" He swung his legs over the side of the bed and fumbled for words, his face flushing hot with embarrassment. This had happened to them once before, but that had been years ago, their first time together as clumsy co-eds, and they'd never had a problem since then. Make-up sex had never been their thing, though, Sakura thought to herself, so maybe that was the culprit? She gave what she hoped was a soothing smile, and moved forward to straddle him, taking his face between her hands. She pressed herself against him and kissed him, long and lingering, before moving back and going to her knees on the floor in front of him.

"Let me help you," she murmured in a low voice, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned forward and took him in her mouth. Syaoran made a vague protest, then moaned. Sakura braced her hands on his thighs, and attempted to ease the tension she felt in the muscles by kneading them as she moved up and down along his shaft.

Nothing was working. No matter what Sakura did with her tongue, teeth, lips, and hands, Syaoran's cock remained persistently flaccid. She tried not to be upset or hurt by this, and wracked her brain for favorite techniques she was overlooking, but nothing came to mind. She looked at him, a panic-stricken look inching its way across her face. Syaoran had never been much of a voyeur, instead always taking a very active role in their lovemaking, but maybe she could let him watch her touch herself. According to Tomoyo, it drove Eriol crazy... She got up and came to sit beside Syaoran on the bed, leaning her weight against him.

"Honey, how about I-"

Syaoran stood up abruptly, causing Sakura to lose her balance and pitch forward. "No," he said flatly. "I… This isn't working." He found his boxers and pulled them on, then grabbed Sakura's shirt and tossed it onto the bed next to her before striding over to the closet and pulling a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt off the peg by the door.

"Syaoran, what are you…" Sakura trailed off as Syaoran threw the clothes on and made for the bedroom door. Syaoran turned to look at her, his eyes full of frustration and thinly concealed rage, and she clutched the t-shirt to her chest, feeling very suddenly overexposed.

"It's not you," he muttered tersely as he walked out into the hallway. He hesitated by the door. "I'll be downstairs." Sakura heard his footsteps trail away down the steps and into the basement.

Sakura sat there for several moments, staring after him in bewilderment. What had she done wrong? He'd wanted her, that was indisputable, so why was he acting so strangely? She pulled on the t-shirt with shaking hands and scanned the dark floor for her underwear before giving up and crawling back into bed. Her heart was racing out of control, and she could still feel an unsatisfied throbbing between her legs. She shifted restlessly. Even if she managed to fall asleep, she knew it would be broken at best.

Perhaps, she thought ruefully, it might have been a better idea to stay at the hospital after all, for all the good that coming home had done her. She reached over and grabbed the pillow from Syaoran's side-clearly he wouldn't be coming back to bed that night-and held it tight against her body, trying to clear her mind and recapture the sleepiness that had seemed unshakeable only minutes prior. She counted sheep, listed the names of stars, and tallied up all the bones in the human body before she felt the familiar weariness seep back into her.

Slowly, torturously, she finally managed to fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
